Still Waters
by PezzieCoyote
Summary: CM Punk falls in love, but someone aims to take that away. Punk/OC
1. Chapter 1

Still Waters

AN: I only own Paige. Wish I owned Punk. To the best of my knowledge, no such place exists. If there is, it's by mere coincidence. And Paige is, in no way, based on me. I also play fast and loose with various characters, storylines and events. Also, Punk, at times, may seem a little OOC but it's my story, so there. :P :D

Sunrise, British Columbia

It was a cold Tuesday when Paige Monroe left her apartment. She usually didn't venture out much in the winter when she wasn't working daytime, but she didn't want to stay in today. As she walked, she saw a few people who stared at her. She was used to people staring, but god couldn't they have some tact. She knew people thought she was a freak. She might have a good body in front of her but it was her dark purple-streaked hair that captured their attention. She *would* be stuck living in a conservative, religion-based town.

Paige glanced at her watch. Just a few minutes after one. She decided to go into the local café, taking her usual table in one of the corners. When asked, she ordered a Pepsi and a muffin. She had just gotten her order when the door opened and in walked a professional wrestler known as CM Punk, real name Phil Brooks, but she knew from various Comic Con videos that he didn't like being called by his real name.

She couldn't help but stare at the man. When he looked her way, she turned away but she knew he noticed her looking. He spoke to the café clerk briefly before he turned and began walking her way, the other customers staring at him every step of the way. She didn't know what to think, especially when he stopped in front of her.

"Caught ya," he said softly.

She looked up and smiled. "Yeah, I guess you did."

"May I?" he gestured to the empty seat across from her.

"Sure," she said. After a beat, she looked at him again, then around her, purposely looking the customers in the eye, calling their bluff. She chuckled as they minded their own business.

"What's so funny?" Punk asked, thanking the waitress when she brought him a can of Pepsi.

"These people, staring at you. They probably have no clue who you are, but they *were* staring."

Punk smiled, "Staring. Why?"

Paige smirked. "Isn't it obvious? You're different. You look different, you act different, you're a stranger here."

Punk sipped at his Pepsi, nodding slightly. "Hmm... they were staring at you too."

"True. I'm different too. I'm used to their stares." Punk smiled. Paige introduced herself, and they shook hands. They remained quiet for a moment before Paige broke the silence. "So how the hell did you end up here?"

Punk smirked a little. "And why would it be so surprising that I'd come here to visit?"

Paige cracked a cynical smile. "Well, for one, this place isn't even on a world map. It's got very little to offer. Did you lose a bet or something?"

Punk leaned back, raising his Pepsi to his lips, perusing her. "My my... we *are* cynical aren't we?"

"I guess we are."

"Honestly–" she looked up when he began speaking "–every year, when I get some time off, I pick a place I've never been before and then I go there, spend some time getting to know a different culture, different people... you know? Haven't you ever wanted to do that?" he asked.

She shook her head. "One, I don't have the money; two, there's no place I really want to go; and three, the people in this town would only be too happy to get rid of me."

"Really?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh come one, you must know what I'm talking about. You look different, you act different, you don't give a fuck what anyone thinks of you, and you make your opinion known."

He nodded.

"Hmm..." Paige mused, bringing the Pepsi to her lips, taking a sip.

"What?"

"I was just thinking... I always thought to myself, if anyone would ever understand me, it'd be you."

Punk was taken aback, skeptical. "Really."

Paige nodded.

Punk put down the empty can. "Somehow I find that hard to believe."

"And *I'm* the cynical one," Paige said with a smile, rolling her eyes slightly.

Punk waved off her comment. "I just find it strange. I choose to visit Sunrise, Middle of Nowhere, and I'm supposed to believe that the person I've been looking for all my life is here?"

Paige broke in. "I didn't mean to imply–"

"Never mind. It's not worth talking about."

"Hey you brought it up," Paige pointed out, finishing her muffin.

They remained silent for several moments, each trying to find a way to start talking again. Finally, Punk spoke.

"It's kind of funny. We were arguing like we've known each other for years."

Paige smiled. "Yeah. It's kind of odd. I feel like I've known you forever."

Punk nodded.

"You want to get out of here? I could give you the grand tour of Sunrise."

"Sure. Prettiest tour guide I've ever seen."

Punk was blatantly flirting, and Paige had no idea how to react. Instead, she just dug around in her purse for her wallet. When she looked up, Punk had already taken care of both of their bills. He said nothing and led them both outside. She just continued to look at him while he gestured for her to walk with him.

"What was with that?"

"What?" Punk just looked at her, and then sighed. "Please don't tell me you're one of those women who get upset if a man does something for you."

Paige smiled. "A feminist?" Punk nodded. "Hardly. I'd be the worst feminist in the world."

Punk smiled as they started walking. Paige showed him what little the town had but he didn't seem to be bored with it. She showed him her high school, the lots where her elementary and primary schools used to be before being torn down. The playground, the college, the few department stores, and the one nightclub. The entire tour lasted an hour or so, with scattered questions from Punk as he listened to Paige relate what tales she knew of. They stopped at Punk's motel to check out, then ended up at Paige's apartment after she offered to house him for his visit.

They had just sat down, Paige on the love seat and Punk on the couch across from her, when Punk looked through the window above her head, noticing that it had begun snowing. Paige smiled.

"I guess you're not used to seeing snow."

Punk smiled slightly. "Please, I live in Chicago." He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I am, however, still trying to figure out what you're after."

The smile dropped. "What do you mean, 'after'?"

Punk looked into her eyes. "Well, it seems that the only time that someone not in the wrestling business is nice to me is when they want something."

Paige remained silent, feeling the anger rising in her. She didn't want to take that anger out on Punk, but he deserved it in this case.

She scoffed. "When someone is nice to you," she repeated.

Punk nodded. "Every person I've ever met has been that way."

Paige just looked at him. "I'm not like every person you've ever met. And why would you think that I'd use you like that? I know all too well what it's like to be used; I'd never do that to someone else," she snapped.

Punk was taken aback by how angry she had become. "Is that right?" he replied, a smirk on his lips.

Paige closed her eyes briefly, shaking her head. She knew what he was doing: the same thing she had done many times herself. He was trying to hurt her so she wouldn't get too close to him. She had done the same thing to others in her past. It was just a defense mechanism to avoid being hurt.

Punk looked like he was sure he had her all figured out. The cynicism in his eyes would have broken her heart, if she thought she really had one. She closed her heart off to anyone who got within striking distance of her. She refused to be hurt again. And that's exactly what Punk was doing now. She wasn't lying when she had said that he would probably be the only person who would truly understand her. Everything she had said to him had been the truth. But he thought everything was a line. He was just amusing her. And himself.

Paige smiled, drawing Punk's curiosity. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," she said sadly. "I just know what you're doing. You're trying to push me away. I know we don't know each other that well, but you're acting the way I do towards everyone. You refuse to be hurt and that's why you're saying what you're saying, I guess in hopes that I'll kick you out of here and that'll be that. I'm not trying to make myself sound more important than I am, but you're saying these things as a way to cut yourself off again. You refuse to let someone get close to you. It's sad because you think that every person you come across is going to hurt you. I know how it feels."

Punk looked at Paige, a bitter smile upon his lips, thinking that she read a little too much into the dirt sheets. "And just what do you think you know that no one else does?"

Paige straightened up, eyes boring into Punk's. "All I know is what I've experienced."

Punk leaned back again, waiting for Paige to elaborate. He watched her carefully, noting with interest the presence of a smile that was just as cynical as his.

"You want someone to understand."

Punk snorted, laughing. "News flash. Rip out the front page."

Paige even allowed herself a small smile. Punk raised an eyebrow, gesturing for her to continue.

"That organ inside your chest, your heart... You feel that one more emotionally devastating event will officially turn it into a cavern. Because it hurts so much to feel anything anymore. It hurts so much to be disappointed, betrayed, and it doesn't seem like it's worth it anymore. All the shit you go through–you, me, anyone-all the crap to manifest a life... it just doesn't seem to mean anything. All you want is some peace, to feel peace. You want to be wanted, need to be needed, you'd love to be loved, but it seems so far away."

She paused a moment, looking wistful, as she continued. "It's like when something remotely good happens, you wonder who's losing out for it to happen. Nothing good is supposed to happen to people like us, because even when something good happens, you feel bad. You feel so bad that you hate yourself, because it seems like everyone else hates you. And for the life of you, you can't figure out why. It's not like you can control what people think or feel or even change their opinion because if you try, it looks like you're trying too hard."

Paige stopped again and was shocked to see the vulnerability in Punk's eyes. She rose and walked over to him, crouching down, placing her hands on his knees.

"All you really want, the only thing you want is to be wanted and loved, for someone to understand, to completely accept you for who you are, and not try to change you, so you won't have to be alone anymore."

Paige waited for Punk to say something, anything. She knelt on the floor, looking up at him, fully expecting him to call her a liar or just grab his stuff and go. But he didn't. He wiped his eyes as if in deep pain.

"How can you do this?" he asked, lacking the volume but not the feeling.

"Do what," she whispered.

"How can you say you understand when you don't."

She leaned back a little. "You think I don't understand? What did I just say? I understand. Believe me, I understand."

Punk remained silent.

Paige shook her head knowingly. "I should understand how you feel right now. I understand how hard it is to trust people. And to hear a virtual stranger tell you how they understand you *is* rather suspicious."

Punk nodded.

"But just ask yourself, Punk, how could I possibly know all this? How could I strike a cord with you–and I know I did–if I was just full of it?"

She has a point, Punk thought. There had been scores of women who claimed to understand him, and they just wanted sex; they'd been gone in the morning, or he had left. He'd be filled with self-loathing for having broken his Straight Edge rules. But this woman, he looked down at her, she did understand him. Hell, she even understood his skepticism.

"Okay, let's say, for the sake of argument, that you *do* understand, and that you *don't* want anything from me. What would be the point of telling me all this?"

Paige faltered. "Well, I want what everyone wants–to be wanted, accepted, loved, and that's something I've never gotten. If anything, I want the same thing you want–to be understood. No one I've ever know has gotten it. They don't understand." She smiled. "It's kind of hard to explain if you think about it. All the times I've looked for some sort of understand, I've gotten burned. Every time I've opened my heart, another knife has been inserted. I don't trust people much, especially women."

Punk gaped at her. "You don't trust women?!"

Paige shifted as Punk sunk to the floor beside her, leaning back against the couch. She pushed her hair out of her eyes, looking at Punk again.

"Well, I've had experiences of friends, so-called friends, who have hurt me, used me. I think a woman would stab someone in the back sooner than a man would." She chuckled, "Told you I'd make a terrible feminist."

Punk looked at her wistfully, knowing that he had found the person he had spent years searching for. She understood. All the pain he had been through, all the lies, being used, everything... She knew. She *knew*. And he had no idea what to do now.

"You don't have to do anything," Paige said, as if reading his mind. "I know it's a hard thing to come to terms with. I've wanted someone, anyone, to get it, but no one ever has. We have something here, a bond, an understanding." She shook her head, chuckling again.

"What?" he asked, rubbing her cheek with the back of one hand.

"I thought if I ever came face to face with someone who would understand anything that I felt or dealt with... I never thought that the other person... would be even more skeptical than I would be."

Punk smiled, nodding slightly. He still didn't know what to do. He glanced at the wall clock. Four pm. He had only known her for three hours and felt like he had known her forever. His hand slid into her hair to caress the back of her head, and she purred like a kitten, her eyes closing at the sensation. She understood... everything. He wasn't alone in the universe. And now that he found her, there was no way in hell he would be letting her go.

Finally, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss, soft and tender at first but then it grew in intensity. Before he knew it, they were in her bedroom, frantically tearing off each other's clothing. Paige pulled off the last bit of her clothing and reached up to close the blind, while Punk took the opportunity to just look at her. When she turned back around, she flashed him a dazzling smile, then made him sit on the edge of the bed as she sunk to her knees in front of him. She took his throbbing penis in her hand, squeezing it experimentally and was rewarded as he groaned and his face flushed hotly. She leaned in, sucking at the head, taking just that much into her mouth, savoring the precum, and the feel of his hand on her head, urging her to take more of him in. Her hand slid up to roll his balls between her fingers, then she sated him somewhat as she relaxed her throat, taking in as much of his cock as she could, sucking so much that her cheeks hollowed out.

"Ah, Paige... that's... uh... so good..."

Spurred on by his words, she began to rise and fall on him, creating a delicious friction. Just the look of her, of the woman he now loved, and he knew he did love her, on her knees for his pleasure nearly pushed him over the edge. But he wanted more. He gently pushed her back, as she eyed him in confusion.

Punk reached down and pulled Paige up into his arms, their lips meeting in a passionate kiss. He pulled back, turning them around, laying her flat on the bed. His lips attacked her lips, her neck, her breasts, before trailing back up to her mouth. A hand trailed down and played with her pussy lips before inching inside, finding her slippery clit. He reached down to wrap her legs around his waist before he plunged his erection into her. He teased her with a series of short thrusts before pulling himself out of her completely. Then he buried himself over and over, her hips thrusting up to meet his, as he kissed her tenderly.

"I love you," he told her softly, making tears appear in her eyes. He slowed his thrusts as he kissed away her tears, swallowing her sobs with tender kisses.

"I love you too," Paige responded, looking deeply into his eyes.

Punk sped up his thrusts again, Paige moving with him, taking everything he had to give before they flipped over, with Paige on top. She began to move back and forth, faster and harder, before slipping her fingers into her pussy, pinching, fondling her clit. Punk was so turned on by the sight that he grabbed her hips and moved her back and forth on his cock, faster and harder until finally, they both exploded, their orgasms coinciding with each other, their cries being softened as Paige leaned down to kiss Punk. They both continued to move, drawing out their pleasure as long as possible, until finally, they were both sated.

Paige collapsed on top of Punk, his cock still inside her. Punk looked at her, then pushed her damp hair off of her face.

"Hey," he said, seeing her eyes closed.

"Hey," she responded, not being asleep. Then she opened her eyes again to see him smile tiredly at her. He pulled them up on the bed, then pulled a comforter up to cover them. They didn't say any more. They knew what had happened. They felt each other let go. They had felt peace for the first time in each of their lives. Happiness filled them as they drifted off to sleep.

**

When Punk awakened in the darkness, for several moments, had no idea where he was. He knew that someone was on top of him, then remembered: Paige. His Paige, he thought, smiling in the darkness. He glanced around, then found a digital clock which screamed 7:51. Night. He felt her stir, her body moving briefly, which caused his penis to become erect inside of her almost instantly.

"Someone's happy to be awake," Punk heard Paige mumble in amusement.

"Of course," he replied softly, kissing her head. "It aches to know you some more."

She chuckled softly. "I'm sure it does." She paused, lifting her head off of his shoulder to look at him. Even though it was dark, he could see her blue eyes shine. "Is this real?"

He smiled. "It better be. No dream could be this good."

Paige lowered her head, planting a soft kiss on his lips. The kiss deepened as Paige moved her legs to straddle Punk, pulling herself up. Punk sat up, his hands going to her breasts, his fingers flicking over the tiny nubs, making them stand out erect. Their kiss broke as Paige tossed the comforter covering them onto the floor. Punk's mouth trailed down over her chin, her neck before capturing one dusky-rose nipple, then the other, his tongue moistening the tips, as his hands slide down over her back to her ass. Paige began to slowly rotate her hips, teasing Punk enough to make him moan. She chuckled softly, then gasped as Punk's fingers teased the delicate flesh of her asshole, the tip pushing in, gently probing. He heard her moan, and he smiled in the dark, before opening his mouth to take in her breast again, his tongue hardening the nubbin.

She leaned back on the bed, pulling him with her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he started to thrust into her, at first teasing her with a series of slow, sensuous thrusts, but he sensed her urgency and began to pound into her, the force of which pushed her across the bed. Neither of them noticed. He thrust madly, unable to ram himself deep enough, hard enough, fast enough. He growled as he felt her nearing orgasm, the spasms tightening on his cock like a warm fist. She suddenly bucked upward, crying his name as her hips wrenched hard against him. He groaned loudly, his whole body bowing back as he exploded, erupting in painfully intense spasms that left him convulsing on top of her. He spurted deep within her, his throbbing shaft remaining hard for a long time before abating. He collapsed over her, shuddering and moaning. He felt her arms close firmly around him as he turned his head into her neck.

"I love you," Paige said, exhausted.

Punk sighed happily, "I love you."

Paige smiled lazily, sliding his hands over his back, his skin glazed with sweat. She pressed a kiss to his head, sighing. Soon, they both again drifted off to sleep.

THE NEXT DAY...

Punk propped himself up against the wall in bed as Paige emerged from the bathroom, her body still wet from her shower. He watched as the water droplets trailed down, colliding with the fluffy white towel wrapped around her. She smiled at him knowingly as his eyes swept over her body, noting that his boxer briefs were tented by the presence of his erection. He looked a little embarrassed, but she only smiled as she brushed out her newly dried hair.

"So what is it that you do?" he asked.

"I'm a hairstylist."

"Really?"

Paige nodded, laying the brush down and drying herself off. "I work at one of the salons here. There's four or five in town."

"Yeah?" he said, watching her dress. "Do you work today?"

Paige smiled as she pulled on panties and a bra. "This afternoon, but... my heart won't be in it. I want to stay here with you."

Punk looked down then back up at her again. "Well, why don't you?"

"I need to work. I have bills to pay. I–"

"That's not what I mean," he interjected softly.

Paige pulled on a dark purple floor-length skirt to go with the short-sleeved lilac blouse she chose to wear. She pulled her hair into a French twist, then spritzed some hairspray over it, using the product to pull the ends of her bang into place. "What do you mean?" she asked, looking at him in the mirror as she applied a sparse amount of makeup.

Punk remained silent for a moment before smiling. "I mean... uh..." he sighed. "I don't really know how to say it. He pulled himself to sit on the end of the bed. " He paused, searching for the words. "I mean that... Hmm... okay. I'm supposed to be leaving in two days." Paige looked at him, concerned. "I don't want to leave without you," he said, his eyes looking deeply into hers. "I can't lose you. I just found you."

She went to him, her hands rubbing his shoulders a little before her fingers trailed up into his short dark hair. "You're not going to lose me. I promise."

Punk looked into her eyes and suddenly, he spoke, the words coming out in a rush. "I never thought I'd feel this way about anyone. I can't– I mean–I–"

Paige slide her arms around him, trying to calm him down. "Shhh, it's okay, Punk. It's okay. We'll figure something out."

Punk held her tight, his mind, his heart in a turmoil. Suddenly, it came to him. He pulled back, holding her upper arms gently. "Marry me."

Paige was floored at his words. For a moment, she thought she had just imagined it. She needed to hear it again. "What?"

Punk smiled. "Marry me. Move to Chicago with me. You can come on the tour with me... we wouldn't have to leave each other."

Paige just looked at him, still in shock of what he said. "Punk..." she pulled back slightly, pausing, pondering, "Yes. I'll marry you. I'll go with you."

Punk's face lit up. "You will?" She nodded. "Oh god..." He pulled her into an embrace.

"Yes." Paige sighed happily. "Yes."

AN: I know it seems gratuitous to have this whole first part there, having Punk meet someone and fall for her. But I needed to establish Punk's relationship with a woman not in the WWE. And I had to develop it so that the readers would care about her and understand her importance to Punk.


	2. Chapter 2

Paige gazed wistfully at Punk as he grappled with Daniel Bryan in the ring, in preparation for their match on Raw that night. She leaned back into one of the chairs set up for the show, about twenty rows from the front. She insisted he get back to work right away, despite the flurry of activity that started when they first met, only twenty-one days earlier. But she didn't mind. They had eloped the same day Punk had asked her, then went through the task of packing Paige's things. The things that meant something to her, she kept. The furniture was given to friends. She smiled briefly as she watched her husband. She had said that she hadn't realized she'd had so much stuff.

Her smile faded as she remembered her parents' response. They hadn't been pleased. Well, her father hadn't been, but her mother... She knew her mother was happy for her but she'd never go against her husband, Paige's father, on anything. She still didn't understand why her father had been so pissed. He called her a traitor because she was moving to the US. After that, she had wordlessly packed up the few mementos she had left in her parents' basement and left, only being able to say goodbye to her mother ever so briefly. By the time it had all sunk in, she had cried so much and so hard, Punk didn't know what to do for her.

But she had handled it well enough. Just because her father didn't approve of something didn't mean she would conform to what he wanted of her. If that were true, she'd have never become a hairdresser. 'You're going to cut hair for a living?' he had said incredulously when she told him. She sighed as her thoughts trailed off. Nothing she ever did was good enough for her father. That was another thing she and Punk had in common: their fathers. Punk's was a verbally abusive drunk. Paige's father didn't pay any attention to her unless she, in his opinion, screwed up.

Paige became so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn't notice a dark-haired woman near her until she slid into the seat next to her.

"Hey there."

Paige looked up, a little startled. She smiled a little. "Stephanie. Hi."

Stephanie McMahon smiled. "Hi. You look a little lost." She paused. "Still trying to get a handle on things?"

"A little. I mean, a month ago I had nothing. And now..." she looked back at the ring where Punk had Daniel in a dragon sleeper submission hold. "I can still hardly believe it."

"That's love for you," Stephanie said.

"Yeah."

"You know," Stephanie began, turning towards her slightly. "A couple of the guys in the back had this bet going... About whether or not Punk would ever get married."

Paige looked at her in surprise. "Really?"

She smiled. "Oh yeah. He has a reputation as bachelor, a serial dater if you will..." Stephanie trailed off, afraid of what kind of thoughts her words had elicited. She looked at Paige again. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have–"

Paige smiled. "Don't worry about it. Everyone has a past. Punk was no choir boy. He hasn't apologized for his past; he doesn't need to." She turned back to the ring to see Daniel with Punk locked into another submission hold.

"Paige... has he mentioned Chris Irvine?"

She turned back to Stephanie. "About... uh, why?"

"Well, in our little backwater here, everyone gets alone well enough. Sure, egos and the so-called pecking order can cause a few problems, but it all eventually gets sorted out."

Paige nodded.

"The only major strife has been between Punk and Chris. See, when Chris was still married, he had an affair with Amy Dumas aka Lita."

Paige again nodded, a little surprised Stephanie would just out and tell her something like that.

"Because Chris was married, he could offer no commitment to Amy, and finally she got fed up with his broken promises and ended it. This was about a year ago... Punk was out injured when all this happened. When he came back, Chris was actively lobbying to get Amy back but then Punk came back into the picture. Amy and Punk have been friends for a long time, dated, and she confided in him, and that led to them rekindling the relationship they'd had before. And that more or less put an end to Chris's attempts to win her back."

She paused again as Paige mulled over what she had said. Finally, she spoke, "He blames Punk for it."

Stephanie sighed, nodding. "Yeah. Thing is, Chris became so obsessed at getting Amy back, his wife Jessica found out about the affair and left him."

Paige shook her head briefly. "He blames Punk for that too."

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Stephanie shifted in the metal chair before leaning towards Paige slightly. "Chris has a vendetta against Punk. Or should I say, had. He seems to have gotten over it, but I, personally, believe that Chris still wants to get back at Punk."

"Sounds like a loose cannon to me," she noted.

"I'm telling you to protect you. No matter how Chris acts, being on guard with him is a good thing."

"Why not fire him?"

Stephanie looked at her. "He hasn't broken his contract. The only way to fire him is if he's caught with drugs or is caught drinking on the job or commits a crime... If we let him go because of something we thought he *might* do, we'd have a hell of a lawsuit on our hands. And unfortunately, the law doesn't protect against an intention one might have."

"There's no proof of anything," Paige said, sighing.

"No." Stephanie paused, looking down. "Have you met Chris yet?"

"No. No... and I'm really not looking forward to it now," Paige said, shaking her head. She stood and started for the ring, Stephanie not far behind her. They passed the barricade and leaned against it.

"We all care about each other back here, and like I said, the only major strife was between him and Punk and that all seems to be taken care of now. But Punk being Punk, he's a little wary of Chris, even though they've known each other for years."

Paige remained silent as she watched Daniel go for a submission but Punk reversed his attempts, going for a pinning combination. Paige sighed, worried. She didn't want him to get hurt, although injury was almost synonymous with pro wrestling. But a wrestler could easily hurt another wrestler and make it look like an accident.

Paige turned her head towards Stephanie. "Have you thought about moving Chris–or Punk for that matter–to Smackdown exclusively?"

Stephanie pondered for a moment. "I have. Dad thinks the situation is being made bigger than it really is. They're both top stars in the business. Confining either one to Raw or Smackdown would look too suspicious."

Paige said nothing. She looked at the two men in the ring. Punk and Daniel finished up their practice and slid out of the ring. Punk grabbed a towel from one of the ropes before walking over to her as he wiped sweat from his bare chest.

"Hey," Punk said to her, before kissing her head tenderly.

She smiled, sliding an arm around his waist. "Hey."

"Hey Paige, Stephanie," Daniel said.

"Hey you," Paige said. "Ready for tonight?"

Daniel nodded, rubbing the sore muscles of his neck.

"Yeah, but Punk and I have faced each other more than I'd say we care to mention, eh man?" Daniel said, winking at Punk.

"Yeah. Don't remind me," Punk joked, leaning back against the barricade.

Stephanie smiled again. "Well, I need to check in with Dad so I'll see you guys later."

Paige's eyes followed her as he headed up the ramp. "Bye Stephanie."

"Well, I'm going to hit the showers," Daniel said, walking up the ramp as well. "See you guys."

"Bye," Paige said, smiling. She went towards the ring and pulled herself up to sit on the edge. "Good practice?"

Punk nodded, wiping his face of sweat again. "Matches with Daniel are always improvised, even though we know the outcome."

"You work better spontaneously."

Punk nodded.

"I wouldn't be able to be spontaneous to save my life."

Punk chuckled. "I think you did pretty well back in Sunrise."

Paige smiled, "Yes, I guess I did." She paused. "Although in any other situation... I'm the kind of person who has to plan to be spontaneous."

Punk laughed, looking down. Paige decided to change the subject.

"Stephanie told me about Chris Irvine."

Punk's head snapped up. "She what?" Paige just looked at him as he walked to her. "I wish she hadn't done that."

"She told me because she felt I deserved to know, so I wouldn't be surprised if Chris tried to make you look bad in my eyes."

Punk shook his head, a little annoyed. "I was protecting you by not telling you."

"Stephanie said that's why she told me. So my guard wouldn't be down."

Punk turned his head, looking off into the nearly empty arena. He walked around a little before leaning back on the barricade, his head down, deep in thought.

"Me, and probably Stephanie, are the only two who think he could be up to something."

"Punk–"

"Paige... I don't want this to fuck up our lives, okay? He made bad choices and perhaps I did too. I just don't want something in his and my past to lay claims on the future." Punk broke off, almost growling in frustration. "He tried to injure me before but it didn't work... I guess that... He could be burying his hatred and thirst for revenge, maybe to plan something... And you're vulnerable. It's not like you're in this business so you haven't trained or anything..."

"Punk–"

"No, no. Listen–"

"I can take care of myself–"

"But not around someone of the athletic caliber of Chris Irvine. Think of all the different kinds of matches he's been in. Cage matches, ladder matches... All the punishment he's taken. He thrives on being faced with obstacles. To him, you are an obstacle in his plan to get back at me."

"Aren't you reading too much into it? Stephanie says he's forgiven and forgotten."

"On the surface, maybe."

"So maybe I shouldn't be on the tour with you," Paige said slowly. "If you think he's going to do something or... you know."

Punk moved to stand between her legs, his hands cupping her face before he kissed her softly. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight, sweaty torso be damned. "There's still so much we don't know about each other. So much to learn. Plus, with us separated, that would give him more of an opportunity to get revenge."

Paige slid her arms around her husband. "I know. I know."

"Oh, I have an idea," Punk said, pulling back.

"What?"

"How about if I train you? Help you to learn defensive..." his speech deliberately slurred on the 'v,' "...uh, moves."

Paige didn't answer. Instead, she just pondered the idea.

"So what do you think?"

She looked back at him. "Okay, just so you understand, I wouldn't be training to get into the company or anything."

"Oh, I know that. But you never know, Triple H might see you training sometime and want you in."

"I don't want to be in."

Punk just smiled again. "Well, that's fine too."


	3. Chapter 3

Three Months Later

"So are you ready for tonight?" Punk asked from his seat on the bench. He rooted around in his gym bag, looking for a red marker to 'X' his taped wrists. He looked up at his wife, splendidly dressed in tight-fitting jeans, a snug crop top with a small jacket on top.

Paige paced nervously, wringing her hands, glancing at the wall clock every two seconds. "Ah... yeah?"

Punk chuckled briefly, smiling knowingly. "Yeah, sure you are." Paige stopped pacing when Punk reached out and gently grabbed her wrist.

"Look, I didn't even want to be involved but..."

"Triple H is a very persuasive man, Paige, I told you that."

Paige sighed deeply before sliding into the seat beside Punk in his locker room in the arena, reaching down to pull on a pair of low-heeled black shoes before glancing at the monitor. The arena was still empty. She'd have to head out there soon, to get her seat for Raw that night. It was still hours before the show but she had to be out there as not to arouse suspicion of her place in that night's show. That wasn't what she was the most nervous about. It was Chris Irvine.

She had met Chris shortly after going on tour with Punk and, to her annoyance, found him to be a nice person, despite what Punk had said about him. True, she was on guard around him but had to trust him to a certain degree. After all, her storyline dictated that she interact with him. Triple H wanted to pair her up with John Morrison in a way to catapult him to the top. And she couldn't exactly demand that she not work with Chris, but John's storyline was with Chris.

"Yeah I know." She was set to make her WWE debut that night. The brass had tried many times and with a lot of different storylines to push John to A-list status, but he didn't quite have the commanding force a top draw guy needed. Paige had made an off-hand comment in Triple H's presence that suggested things had to get very personal in order to give John the focus he, on screen, needed. Triple H had been impressed with how she saw exactly what various others onscreen personas needed. He wanted her to be a part of the writing team at first, until he had inadvertently seen her helping Kaitlyn practice for her rematch against the women's champion Maryse. Kaitlyn needed someone to spar with in order to be more spontaneous in the ring and Punk had suggested Paige, since she was still learning the moves, but had seemed to have a natural ability for it.

In a few minutes, she would head out to take her seat in the front row, to be singled out by the world champion Chris Jericho. It was a set up, of course, to draw John Morrison out from the back, in aid of his sister Paige.

"I haven't been training that long..."

Punk interrupted her. "And I know you didn't want to be involved but you have all the makings of a WWE diva."

Paige rolled her eyes and sighed. "Diva. Hmm."

"Look, the trainers can make diamonds out of rocks here. If they can turn Candice Michelle into a championship wrestler... hell, if they can turn Kelly Kelly into a championship wrestler, they can do anything." Paige laughed. "When's your first photo shoot?" Punk asked as he finally found a red marker.

"In about a week, I think. We're going to the Bahamas. I may not catch on though..." Paige said.

Punk threw the marker back into his bag as Paige stood up, pacing again.

"Would you stop that? You are always so down on yourself. You're beautiful, baby."

Paige just looked straight ahead, not wanting to see the look in Punk's eyes. "Beautiful," she repeated, skeptical.

Punk nodded, standing. He came up behind her and pulled to in front of the full length mirror on the wall. "Yes, beautiful. Don't you see what I see?"

"And what do you see, Punk?"

He looked into her eyes in the mirror. "I see a woman who's beauty radiates from within. I see your heart, your soul. I see sparkling blue eyes so deep I could get lost in them. I see skin with such beauty that it out-glows the moon. I see full, pouty lips. Gorgeous long hair. A body to die for. I see you."

Paige's heart swelled. She wanted to cry, his words were so beautiful, but instead leaned back against him, his arms wrapping around her tightly. The moment was broken a moment later when a knock came on the door. A moment later, Triple H popped his head in.

"Hey guys. Ready, Paige?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Okay then. Let's go."

Paige nodded, giving Punk a quick kiss before heading out.

****

"And John Morrison, don't think I've forgotten about you..."

Paige crossed her arms across her chest, then perfected the expression on her face, an expression meant to say that she was bored as hell with listening to Chris Jericho and would rather be anywhere else. She looked to her left, concentrating on the top of the barricade, waiting for Chris to notice. He was in the ring, dressed in his light-brite jacket, addressing John Morrison, with the world title belt draped over one shoulder. She glanced up briefly, but caught herself before the camera got a closeup on her face.

"Hey you! You!" Chris thundered, but Paige continued to ignore him. Annoyed, he climbed out of the ring, which caused her to look up, right on cue. Her eyes still conveyed boredom, even as she offered a small slightly sarcastic smile. "You think what I'm saying is funny?" Chris asked her in character.

She just continued to smile.

"Listen, bitch–" the crowd reacted to his words, as she stood up, the crowd around rallying behind her. "I am the ruler of the world. This is Monday Night Jericho. This is my show. I am the world heavyweight champion. And I deserve respect."

Paige chuckled briefly. "Respect? Jumping people from behind does not deserve respect. Cheating at every turn does not deserve respect. You deserve a lot of things, but respect is not one of them," she said, the microphone picking up her words.

Chris's expression conveyed his anger very well. He wasn't about to be treated this way, not by anyone. The crowd responded with boos as he tossed his world title belt into the ring and grabbed Paige by the hair, dragging her over the barricade. He pushed her into the ring, sliding in after her. Paige scrambled to get away from him, but he grabbed her by the hair, yelling in her face. She began thrashing to loosen his grip on her but he held fast. Finally, he knocked her down and grabbed her legs. He attempted to turn her over and into the Walls of Jericho. But before he could, John Morrison ran out and slid into the ring, pummeling Jericho furiously before tossing him out. John went to her, helping her up while glaring daggers at Chris, who retrieved his world title belt from the edge of the ring before heading towards the entrance.

Still glaring at Chris, John picked up a discarded microphone laying in the ring. "Hey, champ!" Chris turned to face John and Paige, who had been helped to her feet. "You've crossed the line now, pal."

Jericho looked amused, stopping for a moment before going over to the commentators' table, picking up a microphone. "John, everybody knows that I'm better than you, in more ways than one, and I constantly prove it time after time."

John chuckled briefly, as Paige stood side by side with him, one hand massaging her other arm. "You prove it? The only thing you prove is your ability to cheat in every single match we have. You cheat, or you DQ yourself. That doesn't make you better than me."

Chris's lip curled in anger.

John continued on, "And I've had enough of this crap. You always say you're better than me. I've beaten you in non-title bouts. Why don't you put your money where your big fat mouth is? Get in the ring tonight. Put the title up."

Chris laughed. "Sorry John. Looks like you've got your hands full will your tramp there." John dropped the microphone and started to go for the ropes, ostensibly to leave the ring, but Paige stopped him. "Oh, touchy too."

John picked up the mic again. "My sister has nothing to do with this."

Chris regarded Paige, looking her up and down. "Hmm, despite her family ties, gotta say, she's a hot little number." He paused a moment, thinking. "Tell you what. How about we settle this, once and for all? You, me, tonight. In that ring. World title. If you get lucky enough to win, I get a rematch next week, with whatever stipulations I want. If I win, you will never get another shot at this title for as long as I hold it." John's lips turned into a smile. He was about to respond when Chris continued on.

"Oh. And one more thing. I win tonight, I get your sister for the whole night, to do with whatever I want."

Paige, in character, glared at Chris with utter contempt. Paige the person was in disbelief. That wasn't a part of the stipulations for that night's match. He'd gone off script. A second later, the referee in the ring whispered to John to just stare Jericho down, without giving him an answer. As the crowd reacted loudly, the cameras took their obligatory close up shots before going to a commercial break.

Once backstage, the first thing Paige heard was Triple H's voice, ripping into Chris like a vulture attacking its food. "What the hell do you think you're doing? This is not your goddamned show, it's my damned show! You do what I say, not the other way around!"

Chris stood there, taking Triple H's shouts, his head down. When Triple H glared at Chris, waiting for an explanation, Chris just shrugged.

"I don't know what I was thinking. I'm sorry, I just thought–"

"You didn't think, that's the whole point!" Triple H stopped a second to calm himself down a little. "You know damn well that you are supposed to cheat yourself a win. The story doesn't move itself along this fast. And Paige is not going to be put in that place, not this fast!"

Paige just watched the exchange from ten feet away, smiling briefly when Punk slid up behind her, kissing her briefly. "What's going on?"

Paige looked at him uneasily. "You heard what Chris said out there?" Punk nodded. "Triple H is not pleased." They watched Triple H a moment longer before he led Chris over to where she, John and Punk were.

"Okay," the WWE owner sighed. "One more slip up by you, Chris, will screw you. I mean it. I'll put you in jobber matches for the next year against 10-year-old girls if you go off script again." Chris nodded, looking down. "So, this is how it will be. We'll have JR and JBL mention during the recap that John accepted the stipulation. But-but," he continued, seeing that both John and Paige wanted to say something. "The usual match will take place. However, Paige, you will get hold of the world title belt and attempt to use it against Chris' head. Chris will grab you, Paige, kiss you, you'll slap him. He'll look like he wants to slap you for it, you get out of the way. Chris'll grab the strap, hit John with it which will give him the DQ win. You'll go for a steel chair, go to hit John, Paige gets in between the two of you, Chris drops the chair, grabs Paige..."

Paige and John nodded. Punk sighed. Chris turned and headed to his locker room.

Triple H shook his head. "What is his damn problem? John, Punk..."

Punk sighed again. "I don't know. Maybe he still wants me to suffer and what better way to do that than to go through my wife."

Triple H pondered that thought a moment. "I thought that problem was taken care of."

"I thought so too. I intend on keeping my eye on him, that's for sure."

Triple H nodded, "You and me both. If he steps out of line again..." He didn't finish the thought, the threat very clear. "Okay. Well the match will be the main event, we all know that. Just... Punk, I know you want to be out there but your stories don't connect, but be assured, Paige will be safe. What happened to Amy won't happen to Paige." With that, the on-screen COO turned and headed towards his temporary office.

Once out of sight, Punk swore and threw the closest object to him, a chair, clattered on the concrete.

"The son of a bitch!"

John, a longtime friend of Punk's, shook his head before looking at Punk, then Paige. "I can't believe he would be so..."

"So public," Punk finished distastefully. "He knew exactly what he was doing."

Paige felt apprehension rolling through her stomach. "What do you mean?" she queried.

Punk paced around in front of her a little, hands on hips, before stopping and pulling her into an embrace. "I worry so much for you," he said, his words muffled against her head.

"I'll be okay, Punk. I can take care of myself, and you heard Triple H."

Punk nodded, still holding her. But his fears weren't allayed. Not one bit.


	4. Chapter 4

Chris Irvine entered his locker room with a light heart. He knew it was risky to do what he did out there, challenging John with that kind of stipulation. But it had worked out. It always did. He wasn't stupid. He knew he could have been stripped of the world title right then and there. Or Triple H could have changed the end of their match and have John come out of it as the world champ. He was pissed off as it was, since he knew he had to drop the title to John at the next pay-per-view. Still, to get his hands on Paige... dropping the belt would be worth it.

It wasn't just Paige Punk was worried about. He was worried that his wife could end up like his ex. Poor Amy Dumas. The poor poor dear. Chris smirked just thinking about her. She had learned the hard way not to mess with him. She used him and left him and took up with Punk again. But he had gotten a just revenge from her. The thought of what he had done to her made him so horny. He never thought he'd be the type of man to enjoy the pain and suffering of a woman like he did but here he was, sprouting wood like Dirk Diggler.

He only wished his storyline was with Punk as well as Paige. He could end Punk once and for good. He'd tried before, when Punk was out with his neck injury. He had hoped the neck injury would end his wrestling career, but no. Punk had more lives than a cat. He hated cats. Guess being indy born and bred made him more resilient than Shawn Michaels.

Chris sighed as he slide down on the leather sofa in the room. His match was still an hour away yet. He reached up and flipped on the monitor, watching absently as Dolph Ziggler and Daniel Bryan got into yet another spat over AJ.

Chris sighed again. He so looked forward to his storyline however. He may not be able to get to Punk, but he could do one better and get to Punk's wife. He could fuck her up royally and do it publicly and there'd be nothing Punk could do about it.

**

It was soon time for Paige to slide into the ring and get involved in the match but she was nervous. She saw what Chris was capable earlier when he went off script. She'd seen the reaming out Triple H had given him backstage. Hell, half the locker room had seen it, the rest of them had heard about it. It might not have been a physical thing, but it showed Paige how Chris' mind worked. He was devious, that was a given. But she saw the calculating look in his eyes, one he thought he'd hidden from everyone.

But not her.

She had trained herself to spot those kind of looks. After having been used and 'played' as many times as she had, she'd taught herself to look out for that kind of thing. And it was never so prevalent in someone's eyes as it was in Chris Irvine's.

He still wanted revenge. And Paige was sure that he would use her to exact it.

A while ago, Paige had gotten the story out of Punk. Jericho had been facing Edge in a no DQ match. During the match, Jericho got a chair and brained Edge, who laid prone in the ring. Then he went after Amy. He was supposed to DDT her on the floor but instead, used the piledriver. It looked like he had misjudged how far to hold her head down but Punk had told her that he believed that Chris had done it on purpose, as well as purposely turning her over afterwards. Her neck had been broken and turning her over had rendered her a quadriplegic.

Paige shivered, rubbing her arms absently. She sighed. Here goes nothing.

She slid into the ring and grabbed the championship belt Chris had grabbed from Lilian Garcia. He turned to hit back but saw Paige and stopped himself. John came up behind them to brain Chris with a chair but he moved, nearly hitting Paige. She flailed back slightly, then everything seemed to move in slow motion. She saw Chris grab the chair and nail John with it, then he turned to her.

He'd gone off script again.

Paige looked at him, true fear in her eyes, before attempting to get away but Chris dropped the chair flat, grabbed Paige by the hair, then executed a devastating piledriver on her. Before Chris had a chance to move her, John grabbed him and managed to push him out of the ring before going to Paige.

Chris seethed. He watched as EMTs rushed the ring while John paced the ring, the ever concerned 'brother'. 'Goddamn it,' Chris thought. He had almost gotten his revenge.

Backstage, Triple H was irate. He barked into the headset to end the show early before heading out to the ring. Chris was done. That was for sure. Done with a capital done. He watched as the paramedics carefully loaded Paige Monroe-Brooks onto a stretcher, keeping a careful eye on Chris Irvine. He wouldn't put it past him to try something even now. He just hoped the piledriver hadn't permanently injured Punk's young wife.

As Paige was taken from the ring, Triple H saw Chris move, but blocked him off before Chris could get close to the injured woman. He grabbed at Chris but the unstable man dodged his boss and ran through the crowd.

Triple H glared at the last spot he'd seen Chris but turned towards Paige and the EMTs who were on their way backstage. She was the priority right now. Chris would be caught. And dealt with.


	5. Chapter 5

The beep-beep-beep of Paige's heartbeat monitor filled the air. Punk glanced at his wife again. He sighed and stood up, going to the window and staring out over Chicago. His sightless eyes thought back to only a few short months ago before he had met Paige. God how he loved her. He couldn't lose her now.

She was comatose. The doctors had induced it to keep her from the unbelievable pain that she'd be in. They wouldn't really know anything until the swelling on her spine went down. Then they'd bring her out of the coma and only then would they know if there would be any permanent damage.

Triple H had immediately written Punk out of his storyline. He wasn't going to force him on the road with his wife hospitalized. He offered to cover all hospital and rehabilitation expenses. Punk had protested but Triple H had insisted. It was obvious Triple H felt tremendous guilt for the storyline and spot.

Irvine had yet to be caught. Police had reviewed the tape of Raw, talked to various people, the ref, John Morrison, Triple H, even Amy Dumas, and a warrant had been issued for Chris's arrest.

Punk rolled his eyes. As if it would do any good. It wouldn't make Paige's injuries, whatever they were, go away. The only way Punk would feel any better is if he could maim Irvine himself. But it wouldn't do Paige any good with him in prison, no matter how good it'd make Punk feel.

Punk yawned. He hadn't slept since the night before Raw; that was three days ago. He couldn't sleep. Not while Paige's condition was unknown and certainly not while that psycho was out there. God only knew what he was planning next. And Punk knew for sure that Chris was planning something. He wouldn't stop until he got done what he intended.

The staff had brought in a cot to put in the room. Maybe he should sleep. It wouldn't do Paige any good for him to be dead on his feet. Mind made up, he lid on the cot. He was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

**

Chris Irvine peeked into the hospital room. Good. The moron was finally asleep. He could go in there and smother him easy. But then he wouldn't really be suffering. That was his main goal. Fucker ruined his life, his marriage, turned Amy against him. Well, he taught her.

Chris adjusted the doctor's coat he pilfered from the doctor's lounge. Looking around briefly, glancing at the police guard, he entered the room of Paige Monroe-Brooks. He glared down at CM Punk, hatred burning in his eyes.

No time right now, he thought to himself. He quickly prepared Paige's bed to move, then wheeled her out of the room, under the guise of more tests. He pushed the bed into the elevator, hit the button for the basement, smirking evilly as the doors closed.

A while later, he loaded the bed into a waiting van. As he drove away, the evil smirk returned. Just you wait, Punk, Chris thought. The fun was about to start.

**

Punk awoke a while later, momentarily confused as to where he was. Opening his eyes completely, he noticed that Paige's bed was gone. He bolted up and out of the room, calling for a nurse.

"Where's Paige?" he asked the first person who answered his cries.

A young nurse looked confused. "Uh, she should be in her room. She's not scheduled for any tests until later this afternoon."

Punk looked pissed, panicked. "She's not there."

The nurse, Elisabeth according to her name tag, looked alarmed. She approached the guard. "Where is Mrs Brooks?"

The guard, a tall, bulky man, answered, "The doc took her for some tests about two hours ago."

"She's not scheduled for any tests," the nurse spit out. "Plus, a doctor wouldn't wheel her out."

By now, a small crowd of hospital personnel and a few doctors had gathered. They'd all heard what had happened to the young woman at the hands of Chris Irvine. One of the other nurses, a man called Alex, produced a photo.

"Was he here?"

The guard recognized the man. "Yes, that's the doctor!"

Punk nearly collapsed within himself. He vaguely heard the guard being chewed out from all sides. Chris had Paige. What in the name of God was he going to do to her? He'd already done so much.


	6. Chapter 6

I know the chapters are short but this is how I want to space them out.

Chris Irvine pushed Paige's hospital bed into the stark room. He looked down at her. It was sad. She was merely a victim of circumstance. When he had met her, he'd honestly liked her. There was no accounting for taste, as was evident with her choice of husband, but still.

Positioning the bed, Chris stood back to survey his work. The room was bare, no windows, a hidden door. He watched Paige for a couple of minutes until she started to stir.

"Punk..."

"Sorry baby, Punk's not here."

Paige turned her head, her eyes widening in fear to see Chris at the foot of the bed. "Oh god, what have you done with Punk?"

Chris grinned, "Your precious Punk is fine. Left him at the hospital sleeping like a baby. You on the other hand..."

Tears leaked out of Paige's eyes, "Haven't you done enough already?"

Chris was surprised to feel a tugging in his chest. He shook it off.

"How could you do that to me? You don't even know me and to do that... how can you be so heartless?"

"You wanna blame someone, blame your husband."

Paige sobbed, "My husband didn't piledrive me on a fucking chair. You did. You made all these decisions, not Punk. You made a conscious decision to go after me because of what you think Punk did. How about holding yourself accountable for your own choices?"

"Punk stole Amy from me!"

Paige shook her head, "You can't steal a person from another person. They have to go willingly."

"Yeah well, I paid Amy back for that."

Chris turned away, trying to rein in his anger. This wasn't going to way he wanted it to. She should be terrified, begging for her life, not trying to get him to see sense.

Sense? No, he couldn't think like that. He couldn't feel compassion now.

"If you do something else to me, to Punk, how will you explain this to your children?"

Chris growled in anger and charged the bed. He ripped the blankets away from Paige, pawing at her clothes. Horror registered in Paige's eyes as she realized what Chris was going to do.

"No, please! Don't do this!"

Chris ignored her.

"Please don't!"

Paige still couldn't move much due to the drugs in her system so she could only watch as Chris pushed up her hospital gown, released his erection and viciously drove into her. She screamed in agony. He ripped into her body with no mercy, thinking nothing of her or what he was doing to her. His mind was tainted by revenge against CM Punk. Anyone was expendable in his revenge-addled mind, anyone. That especially included Punk's deluded wife. If anyone was just as responsible it was her.

"Fucking bitch!"

He thrust harder, ignoring the fact that she had passed out, likely due to the pain. He smiled sadistically. It would be so easy to end her, render her useless like Amy Dumas. He pumped himself harder into her, while smacking her in the face to wake her. When Paige finally stirred, she cried out again.

"Hey! That wasn't part of the plan!"

"Don't care," Jericho said to the voice.

Paige heard a ping, then she was showered in blood, watching in horror as Jericho was wrenched out of her and fell to the floor. In horror, she looked up to see Adam Copeland with a smoking gun in his hand.

Adam sighed deeply, then put the gun aside. He grabbed a cloth in his hand, sat on the side of the bed, and started carefully cleaning the fresh blood off Paige. She looked at him confused. Adam just stood, went to a sink she hadn't noticed, rinsed the cloth and came back to sit next to her again. She just looked at him, utterly perplexed as to what was going on, as he continued rinsing and washing, until she was clean. He deposited the cloth in the garbage bin, then returned to her with a fresh hospital gown. His eyes caressed her curves as he removed the other shredded gown and put a new one on her.

Paige then watched as Adam left the room, returning with a tarpaulin for Chris's body. After several minutes, the body was wrapped and pulled out of the room. Adam came back with a mop and bucket to clean up the blood that had already started to congeal.

Adam neared Paige, pulled her blanket up over her, then sat down next to her. "I must apologize for that. I had never intended to kill him but he had hurt you... again. I told Chris, years ago, to let go of his vendetta but no, he wouldn't listen to me. Instead, I decided to use his hatred for CM Punk to my own advantage."

Paige sighed, her eyes watering. "I just want to go back to the hospital, to Punk."

Adam tenderly cupped her cheek. "I can't do that, not just yet. He doesn't deserve you, Amy."

Paige's eyes widened in shock. "I'm not Amy."

Adam chuckled. "Yes, you go by Paige now. But you are Amy. Changing your name isn't going to help you hide from me."

"I am Paige. Not Amy."

Adam patted her cheek condescendingly, "Oh course not dear." He rose up. "I'll just get the doctor I have on staff come and check on you, make sure everything's fine, then perhaps we can move to the next step."

Bewildered, Paige wondered, "And what's that?"

"Beginning our life together. The first thing to do is to get you pregnant."


	7. Chapter 7

Thanks to those who have reviewed. It makes me feel like I'm writing a good story.

CM Punk opened his eyes. He saw white. Turning his head slightly, he saw Colt Cabana reading a newspaper.

"Colt?" his voice rasped.

Colt's head popped up. He discarded the paper and pulled his chair near the bed. "Hey buddy, glad to see you back among the living."

"What happened?" Punk struggled to sit up. He found the remote for the bed and pulled it into a recline.

"You flipped, man. You went wild, attacked an orderly. It took three security guards to restrain you. Finally, they had to sedate you."

Punk dropped his head back. "I don't remember that."

"Doc said as much."

Several minutes of silence passed. "How'd you end up here?"

Colt shrugged and leaned back in the chair. "Chaleen is in Europe. Chez is in Florida. Randy finally thought of me. Thought I might be good for support."

"How long was I out?"

"Couple days. Doc said you were suffering from exhaustion and dehydration." Colt paused. "There won't be any charges for the orderly thing. He understood that due to the situation, you really didn't know what you were doing."

Punk shifted uncomfortably. "Have they found Paige yet?"

Colt looked sad, "No, but–"

"But?"

"Chris was found dead yesterday."

Punk stared, thunderstruck. Dazed, he asked, "How?"

"Gunshot to the back of the head."

"And Paige?"

Colt shook his head and sighed. "The feds said–"

"Wait! Feds?"

Colt nodded. "Paige was kidnapped in Illinois and Chris' body was dumped just over the border in Indiana. Seems like it was deliberate. So, Chris musta been working for someone and this new unknown person has her."

Punk felt what little energy he had leave him. "Chris was the only one who truly had something against me."

Colt was silent.

"You know how I am, man. I have a big mouth, I'm going to say my piece whether people like it or not. But words are just that... words. Who would hate me so much to go after my wife?"

"I don't know man."

Punk's mind swirled with emotions crashing into each other before Colt spoke again.

"Maybe it's not personal. Maybe it's a professional grudge."

Punk turned sharply to glare at Colt.

"What? I'm just saying."

Punk leaned back and let his mind wander. Personal grudge would only be Chris Irvine, who was now dead. It had to be a professional grudge. Colt was absolutely right. It wouldn't be any of the guys from the indies. He was friends with most of them.

Colt interrupted his train of thought. "What about Raven?"

Punk's skeptical brows rose. "Scott Levy? Seriously? The guy is too lazy to hold onto years' old grudges."

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

More silence.

"Jeff Hardy?"

Punk snorted, despite the seriousness of the situation. "That drug-addled enabler? Fuck no. He would not be able to carry out a long-term plan without screwing something up. I remember during our feud when I turned heel, took the title from him..."

Punk's mind wandered at lightning speed.

"Think about it, Punk," Colt said. "People get caught up in their gimmicks sometimes."

Punk nodded. "I've had feuds in WWE with Hardy, Regal, JBL, Batista, Jericho, Umaga..."

"Well, we know it's not him."

"Yeah. Um, Taker, Big Show, Daniel Bryan, Nash, Edge, Triple H." Punk dropped his head back.

"Just tell the cops, or whoever, that it could be professional."

Colt nodded as he watched Punk turn onto his side, facing away, curling himself into a ball. "I just want her back, man. I need her back."

Colt didn't say anything. He couldn't say everything would be fine because he just didn't know if it would or not. He'd not yet had the chance to meet Paige. He looked forward to meeting the woman who made CM Punk tie the knot. He just hoped he got the chance. He really hoped, with everything in him, that Paige was found soon. Otherwise, Punk might never recover.


	8. Chapter 8

Three weeks later...

Paige's eyes were glued to Adam Copeland as he sat with his laptop. He hadn't spoken to her much. He kept calling her Amy. Obviously Amy Dumas. Punk's ex. Adam's ex.

Why did he think she was Amy? She wasn't much like her. Amy was tall. Paige wasn't. Amy was athletic, covered in ink, a singer. Paige was none of those. She'd only gotten her first tattoo shortly after marrying Punk.

It was pointless to start a conversation with Adam. The look in his eyes... he only saw what he wanted to see. And what he wanted to see was Amy. He associated Amy with Punk, and Paige guessed that when Adam found out Punk had gotten married, he associated Paige as Amy. But how he came to employ Chris Irvine in his plans– whatever those were– was unsettling. Adam had obviously fed Chris' hate of Punk. But for Chris to attempt to cripple her, then rape her, why?

Adam had said 'that wasn't part of the plan' before he killed Chris. What was the plan? He wanted to get her pregnant, he said. Paige was confident in his inability to do that. Not that he couldn't get it up, but because she was wearing that Mirena birth control thing since she and Punk weren't planning on children yet. Thankfully, Adam hadn't figured out about the IUD yet. He had still raped her. Every day, several times a day. In his mind, he was making love to her.

Adam closed his laptop, pulling Paige out of her thoughts. "Well, Chris' body has been found. The FBI is involved." He didn't look happy about that.

"Where'd you dump him?"

Adam glared at her. "Indiana."

Paige had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. "I'm assuming we're still in Illinois?" He nodded. "Body was dumped across the border. That makes it federal. I'm from Canada and I know that."

"You're not from Canada!" he thundered.

"Yes I am!" Paige yelled back. "Are you fucking clueless? I am not Amy!"

Adam turned away from Paige in an attempt to reign in his anger. He had to control himself, couldn't do anything out of anger, he couldn't.

"Why do you think I'm her?"

Adam looked at her. That was an odd question. "I don't understand."

"What is it about me that makes you think I'm her? Or is it even about me at all?"

He ignored that query when he noticed her still-full food tray.

"Have something to eat, Amy."

The woman just sighed, shaking her head.

"I don't want to have to hook you up to food tubes, Amy."

Paige turned her head to stare a hole into Adam. "For the last fucking time," she rasped. "I am not Amy Dumas. I've never met her. My name is Paige Marie Monroe-Brooks. I was born 23 years ago in Sunrise, British Columbia. My mother's name is Dorothy. My father is Roger. I have one brother, who is younger than me."

Adam rolled his eyes before taking a seat near the foot of the bed. "Why do you insist on that?"

"Uh, because it's the truth?"

"Have you been brainwashed so much that you believe that?"

"Amy has many tattoos. I have one."

"You coulda had them removed."

"Without scarring?"

Adam faltered. That part was true.

"I'm not as tall as her, my natural hair color is dark brown. My eyes are blue."

Adam remained silent. His mind was racing.

"I can't sing to save my life," Paige continued softly. "Amy can't walk anymore. She's paralyzed from the neck down. It's permanent. You *know* that. I can still move." She moved her arms and legs to prove it. "I know you love her, but I am not her."

Adam looked up, tears running down his face. He could see clearly now. The obsession in his eyes faded as he looked at Paige, really seeing her for the first time.

"Oh God. What have I done?"

Paige felt no sympathy for him. "I want to go back to Punk."

"If I let that happen, I'll go to prison."

She remained silent. She was thinking madly though. She had to go along with him to an extent. Make him believe she was on his side, so she would be freed.

He continued. "All I wanted was to save Amy. I couldn't help her. I guess I wanted to save you."

Paige looked at Adam sympathetically. "I was going to be okay. My neck wasn't broken. I can move my arms and legs. You didn't have to save me. Time and rehab would have done the job. Being with Punk would have helped me."

Adam looked at her, tears still falling. "I can't just take you back. I'll go to prison for the rest of my life. I killed Chris."

"You were protecting me. He was raping me. You stopped him."

Adam looked at her, hope blooming inside of him. Maybe he could get out of this yet. Never once did he think that he had raped her as well.

"Please, let me go back to my husband."

He suddenly rose up and darted out of the room. Paige's head fell back onto the bed. God, how she hoped she got through to him enough that he'd let her go. She needed to be in a hospital. She needed Punk.

**

Adam Copeland paced the length of his office, frustration raging through him. He had to laugh though. The stupid bitch actually thought he was crazy. He wasn't crazy. Just focused. On her, on Amy Dumas, especially on CM Punk.

Playing crazy would get him out of this if he ever got caught. It looked like he would have no choice in the matter though. His plan wasn't working.

Years earlier, he'd enticed Amy Dumas into a torrid love affair that translated to the screen. They had humiliated Matt Hardy and shoved their affair in everyone's faces. Matt had gotten fired yet but when the affair become public, the ensuing support had gotten him his job back.

Adam sat behind his desk and steepled his hands. How strong-willed was the girl, his prisoner? She'd been here for close to a month and yet, she wasn't even slightly broken. She believed he was trying to get her pregnant but he knew about the IUD she had in. He'd removed it and replaced it when she was unconscious a week ago. He didn't want to get her pregnant anymore than she did. Yes, Adam thought smugly, I play crazy quite well.

True, it would be a way to drive Punk crazy once he had his wife back. Knowing that she was pregnant for another man? Beautiful. But he couldn't do that. He had no idea what her stance on abortion was. No matter what kind of man he was, he wouldn't abide by abortion.

So, what was he to do now? Let her go? Kill her?

True, killing her would make Punk suffer but Paige was innocent. She had done nothing to him. It would be different if he could somehow turn her against Punk but after a month, her resolve to get back to her husband was stronger than ever. Maybe he should just return her and let the chips fall where they may. He had Paige thoroughly convinced he was crazy. He could plead insanity and very well get away with it.

But it would also ruin his legacy. He was regarded as one of the all-time greats. For this to get out, it would destroy everything he had every wanted and everything he ever attained. He'd be taken out of the Hall of Fame, all mention and appearance of him removed from WWE. He'd be a footnote at best, much like Chris Benoit was.

Adam stood and paced. He had planned this out for so long and so carefully, it really grated his nerves that he'd had to stray from it. Killing Jericho was not a part of the plan, but Adam hadn't counted on the enormity of Chris' hate for Punk. He'd had no clue that the hatred ran so deep. Unlike Chris, Adam could control his feelings. Although in retrospect, he should have seen it but he'd been too blinded by making his plans.

After a couple of hours of coming up with an idea, but quickly disregarding it, Adam realized, there was only one way out of this. Picking up his gun, he left the room to face Paige Brooks one last time.


	9. Chapter 9

CM Punk paced the length of his apartment. He looked around. The place was littered with boxes. He didn't really mind it because it all belonged to Paige. They were storing it all here until they found a suitable house.

He stopped and looked down at an open magazine on the coffee table. Paige had broached the idea of getting a dog, something small, a pet should could take on the road with her and Punk.

Punk sunk into the pillows of the couch, hands over his face. He'd asked Colt and Randy to leave him alone. Chaleen was back from Europe but had finally left the apartment after Punk had more or less kicked her out. He didn't want to see her or Chez or his unofficial adoptive mother. He just wanted Paige. He needed her.

He was slowly dying. She'd been missing a month, longer than they had even been married. He wished he would have done something different. Argued with Hunter more about the planned spot. They all fucking knew that Chris still had it in for him, and they still pushed the damn idea. After telling Hunter that he wanted Paige as far from Chris as possible...

Punk leaned his head back, looking at the ceiling. Even though they'd only been married a short amount of time, he had such fond memories of them in this very apartment. Making love on the couch, the floor, the kitchen table... he'd never look at the washer the same way again, that was for sure.

A knock came on the door, making Punk sigh. It was probably Chaleen again. Or Chez. "Go away!"

The knocks came again. Punk didn't rise up but the knocks continued. Finally, pissed, he rose up, rushing to the door.

"Chaleen..."

His words faded away when he saw Paige standing there.

"Paige? Oh my–"

"Not so fast there, pal." Adam Copeland appeared behind Paige, a gun visible over her shoulder. "Get in."

Paige moved slowly, still getting used to being back on her feet. Punk reached out and took her into his arms, savoring the feeling of having her back there. He blinked tears away, as he breathed in the smell of her. He backed up, refusing to relinquish his hold on his wife.

Punk pulled Paige to sit on the couch. Adam closed and locked the door, looking at Punk with disdain.

"You did all this?"

Adam didn't respond. But Punk was ranting now and he would not stop.

"You took my wife from me? Over what? Are you fucking crazy? Or just stupid?"

Adam angrily pointed the gun at Paige's head, making her freeze. "Not smart, Punk. Why don't you just shut up."

Punk looked from Adam to his wife. She had her head laid on his shoulder, her eyes closed, her arms gripping him tight. Then he realized that she was sobbing, her tears soaking his shirt, but he didn't care. She was here, in his arms again. Now if he could just get the FBI agents here to take this fucker away.

"Just... why, Adam. Why did you take her from me?"

Adam glared at Punk. "Remember Amy?"

Punk scoffed. "Of course I remember Amy. I'll always remember Amy. What does that have to do with Paige?"

Adam glanced around the room. "Paige was going to end up hurt. Every woman who dates you gets hurt. Amy, Beth, Maria, AJ. All hurt because of you."

Flabbergasted, Punk just stared at Adam. "Are you delusional or something? Amy was hurt by Chris Jericho, who I'm assuming you killed. Beth wanted more of me that I felt comfortable with. She wanted to get married, have kids, the whole shebang. She was using me. Plus, I didn't feel that she was the one I wanted a family and a life with. I never wanted that until I met Paige. Maria... Maria broke up with me, you idiot. And AJ and I are still good friends. Paige even likes her. So what the fuck are you going on about?"

The Straight-Edged Superstar stared at Adam with hatred. Adam felt himself losing control. This wasn't going as he planned. Then again, when dealing with people, how could you plan. People were a wild card.

Paige finally pulled from Punk's arms to look at Adam. Her gaze almost made it seem like she was staring through him. Slowly, she raised herself off the couch, nearing Adam, who searched her eyes. He was caught off guard when she smacked him across the face as hard as she could. The blow sent him back, the gun clattering away.

Punk took the opportunity to leap at Adam, raining blows down on the blonde man. All his rage came out, his heartbreak, the hell he and Paige had both been going through, even though he didn't yet know what Paige had been through. He even hit Adam for killing Chris.

"Stop! Baby, stop, he's out, you'll kill him!"

Paige's voice got through to Punk and he stopped. He fell back onto his ass, blood dripping off his hands. He glared at Adam's bloody face, keeping his eyes there as he spoke to Paige.

"Call the cops. The number is on redial. That'll get the FBI too."

Paige grabbed the phone, hit redial and quickly spoke to the man who answered. "Please, help us. Come to Punk's apartment... this is his wife... please, just hurry–"

Her words were cut off as a gunshot sounded through the room.


	10. Chapter 10

Paige fought tears but couldn't. She'd been crying non-stop since the gun went off. All she could see when she closed her eyes was the sight of her husband on the floor, blood soaking his clothes. She fetched a tissue from her pocket, wiping her eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time.

"Paige?"

The woman turned her head to see AJ Lee and Randy Orton coming down the hallway. Paige stood and was enveloped in both sets of arms. Minutes later, the three sat down, AJ holding one hand, Randy holding the other.

"What happened? Who did this? Why are you here? Where's Punk?"

The questions came one after the other. Randy was smart; he kept his mouth shut while AJ fired repeated questions at her.

"We'd be interested in that too," came a new voice.

The three friends looked up to see two police detectives in front of them.

"Agent William Lamana. This is Agent Ashley Conlon. We're with the FBI. May we speak?"

Paige nodded and led the officers and her friends to an empty room the hospital had offered her. She sat on a couch, Randy and AJ again by her sides, while the detectives stood before being offered seats.

"I know this is a bad time," Agent Conlon said, "but we'd like to get the full story while it's fresh in your mind and before the press gets wind of it."

Paige nodded, tears trailing down her cheeks again.

"May we record this?" the male agent asked.

Again, Paige nodded, taking a deep breath.

"First thing to know is that Chris Jericho tried to paralyze me during one of WWE's TV shows."

"We knew that, but go on."

"He took me from the hospital while I was unconscious. He took me to some... place. It was a large room, set up to look like a hospital room. All the hookups. A doctor was there and took care of me that way.

"When I woke up and saw that it was Jericho, I tried what I could to get him to let me go. I begged him, but he lost his patience and... and... "

"It'll be okay, sweetie," AJ said, putting an arm around her shoulder.

"He lost control and raped me."

Both Randy and AJ gasped. They felt so sorry for Paige. No woman should have to go through that.

"He was hitting me through it and then I heard a ping. Then Jericho fell off of me, onto the floor. Then I saw Adam Copeland with a smoking gun."

Randy was floored. Adam did all this? Why?

"I guess the ping was a silencer. I'd never seen one before," Paige said, sniffling slightly. AJ offered her another tissue, which she accepted gratefully.

"Adam was so calm. He just cleaned me up, since I was covered in blood– he'd shot Chris in the head– put a new gown on me, covered me with blankets, then got a tarp to wrap Chris' body in. After that, he told me that he didn't intend for Chris to r-rape me or for him to kill Chris but that he had to protect me. Then he called me Amy."

Randy's eyes widened. "Oh Jesus," he said lowly.

"He said that we, that is Amy and him had to start their life together and that he intended to get me pregnant."

The agents were silent, urging her to tell what happened in her own words. AJ and Randy were absolutely stunned at what Paige had revealed. Randy's mind was moving at warp speed. Adam had been one of his best friends. For him to do this was nearly unfathomable to him.

"Please continue, Mrs Brooks."

Paige nodded, taking a deep, shaky breath. "Adam kept referring to me as Amy, even though I continually corrected him. He r-r-raped me every day, several times a day. He wanted to get me pregnant, or so I thought."

"What do you mean," Agent Lamana asked.

"Adam plays crazy very well. He almost had me convinced he was insane, that he was lost in the gimmick of his past. But I saw a look in his eyes once that showed me that he was completely sane. I played along though. I didn't want him to snap and kill me."

The agents nodded, checking the tape.

"I had an IUD in. He wouldn't have gotten me pregnant anyhow."

"So, the incident with Jericho, where he attempted to maim you, you were okay after that?" Agent Conlon asked.

"Well, my neck wasn't broken. I may end up needing surgery some day but it was going to be alright. I could still move my limbs and I certainly felt it every single time I was violated."

AJ had tears running down her face. It hurt so bad to hear this but Paige had lived it, the least she could do was listen to it.

"I really don't know how long I was there. I still don't know what day it is–"

Randy told her that she had been missing for a month, causing Paige's tears to start anew.

"Anyways, I 'convinced' him that I wasn't Amy," she stated, putting bunny ears around convinced. "He supposedly saw the light and he stopped acting like he was insane, then he left the room. He came back a few hours later."

"Do you know where he was holding you?"

"No. I only know that it was outside of the city. I don't know Chicago well. I only moved here after I married Punk."

"So what happened next?"

Paige sighed. "We got to Punk's apartment and knocked. There was no answer. Adam made me keep knocking until Punk answered. And there my husband was. I went into his arms and we moved to the couch. Adam followed, ranting about how Punk hurt every woman he ever dated. I stood up and slapped the taste out of Adam's mouth."

AJ and Randy looked surprised.

"Punk took the opportunity to disarm Adam and... he beat him, yes, but how can you blame the guy? When I got him to stop, Adam was unconscious, I guess. Punk told me to call you guys, then I heard the gunshot."

AJ's heart dropped.

"Punk was hit. The b-bullet went into his chest. The ambulance got there soon after and brought us here. He's been in surgery ever since."

Paige broke down crying again. AJ wrapped both her arms around the girl.

"And what happened to Adam?"

"I don't know. I guess he died from what Punk did to him."

The agents conferred with each other quietly. Randy heard the words 'autopsy', 'justified' and 'no charges', making him sigh in relief.

Lamana and Conlon rose, turning off the tape. "Mrs Brooks, I am so sorry for what you've been through," Conlon said. "From your statement, I don't expect any charges to be filed against you or your husband. Once we find the place he kept you, I'm sure physical evidence will support what you've told us. I hope your husband will be okay."

Paige nodded, not noticing the detectives leave the room. Randy turned to Paige.

"How is Punk, really?"

Punk's wife shuddered. "It doesn't look good. There was so much blood, I didn't know what to do. I-I don't know how I'll survive if I lose him after all this."

AJ shook her head. "Punk is a fighter. He just got you back, he's not going to leave you now."

Paige nodded but inside, she was losing hope. Please God, she prayed, something she hadn't done in years, please let him be okay.

***

In another part of the hospital, suddenly the heart monitor flatlined.


	11. Chapter 11

It was a while later when Paige looked up to see a doctor coming towards her.

"Mrs Brooks?"

Paige stood up. "Yes. How's my husband?"

The doctor removed his head protection. "Well, the bullet went into his chest but ricocheted into his abdomen. He lost a lot of blood but we were able to replace it fairly quickly. One centimeter over and it would have ripped right through his heart. But he could actually walk out of here in a week."

Paige sighed in relief, nearly collapsing in Randy's arms.

"When can we see him," AJ asked.

"He's under sedation right now. Better to come back in the morning."

"Thank you doctor," Randy said as the doctor nodded and turned to leave. "See? He's going to be fine. We have to get you checked out now."

"No, I'm fine. I got checked earlier. The police needed my clothes for evidence so the nurses checked me out. I have to see my original doctor when I can about my neck but I'm okay."

"Paige!"

The woman turned to see Triple H and Stephanie McMahon coming down the hallway. The relief at seeing her was palpable. The couple enveloped her in a hug.

"God, it's so good to see you, sweetie," Stephanie said. "I'm surprised Punk isn't here."

Paige sat them down and went through the story again. To say the power couple was shocked would be a severe understatement. And they were even more stunned over Adam Copeland's involvement and subsequent death. They immediately offered to cover all bills, hotels, food, clothing, and cleaning of Punk's apartment. Paige was too exhausted to protest. She just wanted to sleep, preferably next to Punk but that was out, given the situation. Triple H stepped away for several minutes arranging things while Stephanie sat down with her arm around Paige.

"How are you, really?"

Paige sighed. "I'm drained. I haven't slept well in weeks. My body is aching. I want a hot shower. God, I just..."

"That's okay, sweetie. Do want anyone to stay with you tonight? Me or AJ or..."

"I can stay with you, Paige," AJ offered.

Paige looked up at Punk's ex. "Sure, that'd be great. I really don't want to be alone."

AJ nodded as Paige and Stephanie rose to their feet, leaving the hospital as soon as Hunter finished with the arrangements.

***

CM Punk slowly came back to awareness. He heard a loud rhythmic beeping in his ears. His head ached and his chest hurt. He tried to speak but there was something in his throat. Trying to control his limbs was out of the question at the moment but he finally managed to make a sound.

Paige's head popped up. "Baby! You're awake! Thank god!"

Punk looked at her, confused.

"Hold on, I'll see if I can get someone to remove the tube okay?"

She turned and left the room, coming back a minute later with a nurse in tow. The nurse spoke out loud about what she had to do to remove the tube. As soon as it was out, Punk coughed a bit before calming. The nurse raised the bed to an incline, getting some ice chips for him.

"Paige," he rasped.

She rubbed his forehead, cupping his face. Her smile was a sight for sore eyes. "I'm here baby, I'm not going anywhere."

Punk nodded tiredly.

"Doc says you're going to be fine. You'll have to recover at home of course, but you'll be good as new in no time."

Punk blinked a few tears away. "Paige," he whispered.

"I'm here baby, I'm never leaving your side again."

She leaned in and tenderly kissed his mouth. She reached down to take his hand in hers.

"I don't wanna go back to that apartment," Punk rasped.

"We don't have to. Chaleen and Chez are looking for a place for us. They know what you like and I told them more about me. When they find the perfect place, they'll go to the apartment, probably take Colt and Randy and god knows who else and pack up everything that isn't packed and move it to the house."

"We have good friends," Punk commented, his voice weak.

"Yes we do."

"Has anyone else been here?"

"Stephanie and Hunter of course. Lars stopped by, brought in an ipod of your favorite music. They have a show tonight, said he'd probably give you a shout out."

Punk snorted softly.

"The FBI have been here. Wanted my statement while it was fresh in my mind. They'll want to talk to you at some point."

Punk nodded. He looked at his wife, seeing her eyes filled with concern. "How did I survive? I was shot in the chest."

Paige struggled not to cry. "The bullet went in your chest but it ricocheted into your abdomen. It missed your heart by a centimeter."

With a sigh, Punk laid his head back. He came less than an inch to death.

"Now rest your voice, honey."

"Where are you staying?"

"Stephanie is paying for a hotel for me while you're in here. She offered and I didn't have the strength to protest. AJ stayed with me last night. She helped a lot. Having her there made all the difference in the world."

Punk smiled faintly and nodded. Then his face stormed over. Before he could say anything, Paige told him that Adam was dead.

"Saw his body at the morgue myself. He's gone for good."

AN: The description by the doctor of Punk's injury and surgery may sound familiar to Criminal Minds' fans; it's the description used when Garcia got shot.


	12. Chapter 12

Punk looked down in front of him. "Paige, honey, wake up." He crouched down, trying to rouse her away. He noticed that she was covered in blood.

"It's too late, Punky."

Punk turned to see Chris Jericho, blood running down his face, and a bullet hole in his head.

"She's coming with me now."

Punk bolted upright in bed. He looked over to see Paige sleeping soundly beside him. He sighed, running his hands down his face. He got out of bed, careful not to wake his wife, before heading to the bathroom. Grabbing a facecloth, he doused it in cold water, rubbing it over his face.

When would the nightmares stop?

He used the toilet, washed his hands and headed back to bed, cuddling into Paige. She wasn't fairing too much better either. They both had nightmares, almost every night. Paige's, of course, were much worse. She's been repeatedly raped by a maniac. A man had been killed on top of her. How she hadn't gone mad, he didn't know.

Punk himself never got much sleep anyways, but the nightmares made it worse. The doctor had given him sleeping pills, which he adamantly refused to take. He'd been straight edged for 20 years. He wasn't going to change that now.

It had been a month since he'd been shot. He was recovering very well, so well his doctors were even surprised. He was in physical therapy. And he and Paige had been seeing a psychiatrist, sometimes separately, sometimes together.

They'd settled into the new house with no problem. Chaleen, Chez and a circle of other friends, including Randy, Seth Rollins, Dean Ambrose and Roman Reigns, had packed up everything in the apartment and moved it to the house, unpacking it all once they got it there. They'd cleaned up the apartment, paying for the cleaning services themselves. They really did have good friends.

Paige stirred in his arms, whimpering slightly.

"I'm here, baby, I'm right here," he said softly, kissing her head tenderly.

Punk held his wife tight. He'd almost lost her. It seemed unimaginable that so much had happened in such a short amount of time. A mere six months ago, he took a trip to Sunrise, BC, five months ago, he was married. Two months ago, Paige had been kidnapped. A short month ago, he was shot. It was odd how things could make you see clearly. Everything he always said he never wanted, he wanted it now.

A lot had changed when he met Paige. He never even considered getting married until he met her. And now, he wanted a family with her. But given the trauma she had suffered, she might never be the same.

The Best in the World. That's what Punk proclaimed to be. His record-setting title reign proved it. But he felt less than that now. What kind of man was he if he couldn't protect his own wife?

He'd wracked his brain about why Adam and Chris were in cahoots. Punk didn't believe it was only a warped sense of protecting Amy Dumas. Adam wasn't that stupid. Neither was Chris. It was maddening.

Punk kissed Paige one more time on the head before carefully rolling out of bed. He headed downstairs after pulling on a shirt and sleep pants. He opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water, before trudging in to sit on the leather couch. He grabbed the remote and started flipping through the channels.

Looking up, Punk glanced around the house. Gotta say, Chaleen and Chez outdid themselves with this house. He wouldn't have been able to go back to that apartment. He didn't want Paige to go back there either. She'd been through enough.

He glanced up the stairs, thinking of his beautiful young wife. She was coming through this amazingly. She was okay with physical contact with people, as evidenced by the numerous hugs from various co-workers of his. But Punk hasn't made love to her, not since the night before she was taken. He wouldn't push her or try to initiate anything. When she wanted him, he'd be there.

"Punk?"

The man looked up to see Paige on the landing of the stairs. She wore a simple knee-length nightshirt but to him, he'd never seen anyone as beautiful as her. Her dark hair fell down over her shoulders in waves, her skin a bit pale. She hadn't been sleeping well, had dark circles under her eyes, but still, she would always be the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

Paige took the few last steps down to the floor, wrapping her arms around her torso as she neared her husband. Punk turned to the side, pulling a leg up on the couch, beaconing her closer. She sat down and allowed him to pull her close. She closed her eyes as she sunk into his embrace, pulling her legs up.

"Couldn't sleep?" Punk asked.

"I can't sleep without you there. I need you close to me. I'm scared that I'll lose you again."

Punk turned her head. He saw unshed tears in her eyes, which he wiped away tenderly, then he kissed her head.

Paige rolled her eyes and pulled away from her husband slightly. "Why don't you kiss me?" she asked pointedly.

"What? I kiss you all the time."

Paige turned her head. "Yeah, on the cheek or the head, but never on my lips. Am I that disgusting now?"

"What are you talking about, love," Punk did not understand where she was coming from.

The woman stood, pacing a little before turning to her husband. "Adam had me for a month. He raped me every day, several times a day. That's it isn't it. The fact that he's had... his... dick in me, that taints me. I'm just disgusting to you now. Maybe I should just go back to Canada."

Punk jumped up, going to Paige, grasping her by the shoulders. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. No one comes close. You are not disgusting to me. My god, woman. I am so in love with you but I don't want to push you."

Paige lowered her eyes, thinking about what he was saying.

"It kills me that he did that to you but it doesn't define you, baby. You've been doing so well."

She pulled away from Punk and walked around, hands on hips.

"Isn't the therapy helping?"

"It is. I'm just worried that I'll feel this way forever. I don't want to spend the rest of my fucking life feeling like a used, soiled napkin. All he fucking did was use me because of some misguided belief that he was trying to save Amy Dumas," Paige was running her hands through her hair, almost tearing some of it out.

Punk had no words. He felt though, if he couldn't get through to her now, he might lose her, not to any outside person but to herself. After a while longer, he stopped Paige from pacing. He sat her down on a light purple settee Chaleen had picked out, then kneeling in front of her.

"Paige, you are the most wonderful, beautiful, strong person I have ever met. The fact that you've come so far astounds me. You are my wife and I want nothing more than to take you to bed and make love to you until we both can't move. But I didn't, I don't want to push you into anything you weren't ready for."

Punk paused, watching his wife's eyes as she processed what he was saying.

"What happened to you was terrible, but that in no way makes you disgusting or repellant. We won't ever forget it, but it will fade so that it doesn't hurt so damn much."

The former WWE champion leaned in and placed a brief kiss on his wife's lips.

"I promised myself that I would not approach anything sexual with you until you were ready. I would not initiate it. It would be left up to you, for when you felt the time was right. I feel the same for you as I always have. I love you, more than anything."

He cupped her face tenderly, pulling her close, inhaling her scent. After a moment, he felt her slide her arms around him.

"Thank you, Phil," she mumbled against him. "I needed to hear that. All of it." She pulled back, raising her hands to his face before pushing her hands into his hair. "I'm ready for you. I want the memories erased. I want to know, I need to know that it can be good. Will you make love to me?"

Punk gave her a sweet smile. "That's the last time you have to ask that."

He lowered his mouth to hers, slipping his tongue in to meet hers before wrapping his arms around her. His hands tangled in her hair as he plundered her mouth before trailing down her back.

Paige reached down for his shirt, to pull it off; he let her. He reached for the edge of the nightshirt she was wearing, looking into her eyes. Seeing no hesitation, he pulled it up and off of her, leaving her in just her panties.

Punk leaned in to kiss Paige's neck, trailing down to one breast, suckling at the nipple, his hand kneading her other breast. Her hands played in his short hair as he continued his ministrations, and she felt herself get wet, letting out a moan.

"Oh yes, I've missed you so much," she gasped.

Punk left her breasts and took her mouth again, trying to put into the kiss everything he felt for her. He loved her so completely. His love for her was absolute. There was nothing that could destroy it. Not Chris Jericho, not Adam Copeland, no one.

He reached down to slowly pull at her panties. She smiled at him and lifted herself up slightly, then she was naked. Punk kissed her softly.

"May I taste you, love?"

Paige nodded and leaned back on the settee, after adjusting the few pillows. Punk parted her legs, moving in between them before lowering his mouth to her mound, kissing the skin there. He trailed a finger down her slit, her juices seeping out. He ran his tongue down her slit after his finger, lapping at her. His thumbs parted her slightly and he delved his tongue in to play.

"Oh Punk!"

The tattooed man glanced up to see his wife with her eyes closed, biting her lower lip, while her hands kneaded her own breasts. Punk gently introduced a finger to her core, his lips wrapped around her clit.

"Fuck!"

He added another finger and began thrusting them in and out of her. It wasn't very long before she shrieked, her pussy clamping on his fingers, her orgasm washing over her. She was covered in what seemed like a warm blanket as the feeling flowed through her. Punk waited until she opened her eyes before pulling his fingers from her sweet pussy and inserted them into his mouth.

"Delicious."

Paige smiled tiredly as she watched Punk stand and remove his sleep pants and boxers. Paige sat up and pushed him to kneel on the floor again, then she climbed in his lap, reaching down to guide him into her. He slid in smoothly, filling her. He felt like he was home again.

She began to grind on him, his cock sliding in and out of her. Punk splayed his hands on her ass as he began to bounce her up and down on his dick. Paige held his face in her hands, kissing him hard as sweat trickled down her back.

She wrapped her legs around Punk's waist as he began to thrust harder into her. "Oh yes," she cried. "Love you so much!"

Punk groaned against her neck. "Love you baby, love you so goddamn much."

Punk soon felt a tingle at the base of his spine that signaled his impending orgasm. He slid a hand between them and pressed on her clit hard, making her cry out and come hard, her tunnel spasming around him. The sensations were too much for him and he bottomed out, coming deep inside of her.

He managed to turn them so he was leaned against the settee. Paige rested against him, his cock still inside of her. She had no intention of moving. She was exactly where she wanted to be. She was complete again. That's when she knew that everything would be alright.

***

A year later...

"It's a boy!"

Paige dropped her head back on the bed, exhausted. Punk was right beside her, one arm around her shoulder, the other holding her hand. His dropped a kiss to her head as he looked at his son.

The nurse laid the little boy on his mother's chest for a few moments while she passed the afterbirth and had the umbilical cord cut. When the newborn was weighed and measured, he was wrapped in a blue blanket with a blue wool hat pulled down over his tiny head. Paige smiled as her son was returned to her chest.

Punk ran a hand down his back reverently before kissing his head tenderly. His heart was so full he thought it might burst. Then he kissed his wife.

"Look what we did, baby."

Paige smiled. "We did good."

"What are we gonna name him?"

Paige thought a moment. "What about Jack? It's your middle name."

Punk looked at her and then at his son. "Jack Brooks. I love it. And I love you."

The new mother looked at her husband again. "I love you too."


End file.
